


Coming Home

by Lisilgirl



Category: Altered Carbon (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisilgirl/pseuds/Lisilgirl
Summary: Elias wakes up in his own body at Psychasec expecting to be called to the stand at a rigged trial, but Kristin arrives to take him home. Back to their home. And that's when he realizes his sleeve has more scars than when he went in. Oneshot. Elias x Kristin.





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Altered Carbon doesn't get as much love as it should. What a smart, stylish, sexy show with an incredible world and complexity and characters. I fell in love with Elias and Kristin, and his determination to protect everyone around him. This story comes a few months after Season 1, when everything settles back into normalcy.

He woke up choking.

Blearily, his eyes flickered open over and over, the light cutting holes into his retinas, hands clenched mechanically, disattached from his body, noises too loud, clanging metal, the acrid medical scent of disinfectant and organic stabilizing gel burning, then some measure of relief and aching pain as _something_ slid from his throat and glorious air poured into his lungs, and he coughed at the invasion, shuddering at the panic and reeling, only now noticing he had legs and they wouldn't work. His body seized then unfurled into exhaustion.

Eventually, the bright lights dimmed and the screeching noises settled into a dull roar. He took a deep breath in, the ecstasy of air a delight, before he released it.

Then his mind crashed back.

_Why the fuck are you still sitting there?_

He shook his head back and forth maniacally, testing the muscle, testing his feeble senses. Faces swam through his memories, yelling, pointing, a warm hand on his wrist, crying…

"K-Kristin."

The voice sounded tinny. Fake.

"Dumbass." A too loud, masculine chuckle came from his right, causing him to flinch. "He's waking up. Get him to the showers."

His body moved forward without his permission, the rattling of a thin metal cart echoing from the ground and into his muscle. _Waking up?_ Banging doors and distant groaning and bewildered screaming assaulted his ears. He forced his eyes open and took in the pain, embraced it, flared his eyelids until ceiling tiles came into focus, lights whizzing by above his prone body.

A humanoid figure, face entirely covered by a black facemask with breathing apparatus and a white medical hood and coverall, prodded him up from sitting, zaps from a long black stick on his shoulder, then lower back, then legs causing him to spit.

He stood. Clenching his thighs, he demanded his body stand upright. He felt the micro sensations of balance swinging wide, then focusing. Another zap. He growled and stumbled forward toward the wall filled with running water, where other people, a whole zoo of them, shivered and rocked like filthy sewer rats, gasping at the cold water.

He joined, logging that he was naked. The pricking water pressure on his face helped brush further cobwebs away and he blinked, his hands running through his hair, over his body, testing the limits again. His eyes stared at the shiny metal. It seemed like his body. He stared down at his hands. It felt like his body.

Waking up. Psychasec.

His jaw clenched as he scrubbed at his face until it felt raw and open.

He was here because…

Pain stabbed into his heart and he grunted, eyes fluttering closed. He pressed the pads of his fingers into his eyes, hard. Fuck.

The case. Mary Lou. The damned CTAC agent. Tanaka barging, guns, backup, into his apartment, _their apartment_-

_Kristin._

_Her beautiful, soft liquid eyes gazing up at him in terror, piercing the confusion and agony, asking him to calm down, her warm, dark hand on his arm, black hair curling around her face. That cute little cut off and her undies. That mocha skin. But her mouth moved and all he caught was "If". The word rang over and over in his mind._

_Tanaka cuffing him to the interrogation table, pointedly ignoring the cops in the black uniforms slowing past the room, eyes pitying or terrified or smug, Tanaka saying, "We'll spin you back up for the trial, Elias. We'll look into it."_

The water jets suddenly turned off, and moans drifted down the rows of people, some grasping at the nozzles again, desperate. He stared.

Then Elias fucking Ryker swerved and stalked toward the exit.

He'd show them the _fucking_ truth.

XXX

Clothing and water helped abate the fury building in his chest as he listened to the AI program wrapping up the damn orientation.

But only a little.

Rules and processes were laid down as warm, welcoming facts and tips for the world outside the facility. His knee tapped restlessly.

He'd had some time to think. The case against him was for the murder of the CTAC agent, Harris something. Messing with CTAC got you a whole slew of problems; he should have known they'd fix it so he'd be put back in storage forever and couldn't bring justice to their door. He'd have to explain Mary Lou's smooth and unblemished body except for injuries sustained on impact, the strange coincidence of her religious coding and timing of her death, and the way 653 failing fucked up her ability to testify, although her stack remained in perfect condition.

Movement, the other bodies shuffling upright in skin suits that didn't fit, around him jarred him into action. He shuddered, but followed their lead, hands drumming pockets for a cig. Glowering at a nearby sleeve that took too much interest, he stalked toward the allowances desk, entire body itching and shivering.

Black boots, nondescript clothes, and an overcoat. No personal effects in storage.

He frowned, but took what was offered, trying to remember the moments before he went down. He'd relinquished what was on his body and that definitely should have been more than damn clothes. Maybe a crumpled pack or something. Maybe they'd scrubbed it to find evidence. Yeah. That was it.

Satisfied, he entered the toilets and changed clothes as quickly as his body would allow, arms screaming from the strain and he gritted his teeth, a throbbing headache arriving then leaving within a few minutes. He wished there was a mirror in this place. Waking up. Heh. It felt more like resurrection. His hair felt longer than it usually did, little irritating hairs trailing onto his neck. He didn't remember it being that long.

Finally, finally, dressed, he barged out of the room, leg cramping one time and making him look like a drunk as he lurched. Back in the Welcome Room all the others still milled in uncertainty or sat as if gazing off the abyss into eternity, bodies shriveled. He didn't have time for this. He stomped toward the blinking Exit sign, the doorway registering his stack and body identity as he passed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flashing words of ORGANIC MATTER MATCH, and something tight and desperate loosened in his chest.

His body. He was in his body.

Passing out of the tunnel, he saw a familiar room from an unfamiliar side. The enormous room held weak, gray daylight accented by damn near broken electric lights above, the columns placed at inconvenient intervals as if to break up the swarms of people waiting, buzzing food and drink dispensers on the far wall, tiles everywhere for easy puke clean up. The people acted like shadows, drifting back and forth nervously, hands wringing just as much as the sleeves inside. Nearly all the eyes pierced him before dully moving off.

He took a few steps out, waiting for BCPD uniformed men to descend. He tensed.

Then, he saw Kristin.

She was almost already near him, her fierce boxing body lithe and tough, her hair unkempt and wild falling out of its tie. He met her eyes. They drew him in with the relief and worry, the lines in her face deeper somehow.

How fucking rude of them to send her to pick him up.

He stiffened as she drew close. She raised her chin, asking so soft, "Elias?" Her hand reached out.

Relief soothed into his muscles at the sound of his name on her lips. He wanted to engulf her in his arms and crush her to him. He wanted to fall to his knees and grab her hand. He was so tired.

_"If"._

He hesitated, then nodded at her concerned gaze, taking a side step away, eyes darting. "Wher-" his voice cracked in a way he did not like, and he coughed, "Where's BCPD?"

Her face twisted into confusion, then to his utter amusement, rage. Her jaw tightened, and she grabbed his shirt sleeve with a rough grip, tugging him toward a quiet corner, muttering obscenities before she curtly explained, "The bastards were supposed to brief you separately. God fucking damn it!" She pulled him up in front of her, lowering her voice, "You're pardoned. There's no trial."

He blinked, shaking his head. "They said I'd be spun up for the trial," he stubbornly snapped.

Kristin spread her arms wide in a gesture to the entire place. "You know they wouldn't wake your stupid ass up with a bunch of civilians, yeah? Private wakeup and interrogation, none of this 'back to your life' crap." She kept muttering, "They wouldn't let me pick you up if there was a trial. Let me explain on the way home." She reached for his face.

The way her loving hands cupped his jaw as she stood on the very tip of her boots and scowled into his eyes comforted him. This was Kristin.

He laid his palm along hers, eyebrows smoothing from the frustrated grimace. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped and he nearly fell into her arms, only at the last second remembering to keep his legs tensed. His arms pulled her in, safe inside. He buried his face into her neck.

"Kristin…" he sighed. _Home._ She'd said home. He hesitated, murmuring, "The apartment?"

She nodded, the hairs brushing the edges of his face. "Our apartment, remember?"

He smiled for the first time since waking up and it felt just like it always had.

Kristin pulled away first, eyes shining with unshed tears, although her mouth quirked into the sassiest smile. He bent one more time to kiss the corner of her lips, relishing how she turned into it and fully kissed him, cracked lips melding into his for a brief second. Their little game.

Pulling away again, Kristin jabbed his side with a pointed finger, already striding for the door to the outside world. "Let's go. Lots to say."

Elias inhaled and despite the awful, grungy, despicable smells around, it felt good. No trial. Pardoned.

_But what if she's lying?_

He shook his head like a mangy dog, automatically following Kristin's form around the uncomfortable benches and groups of sobbing people. He shrugged his shoulders. Kristin kicked the door open and he slipped through before it shut.

Outside, the rain poured. Afternoon showers then. The usual rabble of protesters outside Psychasec facilities remained, but to his surprise, the cheers weren't the usual harassing between the religious and justice factions. Instead, he made out REPEAL 653 and PROTECT SPIRITUAL WISHES. He slowed for a fraction of a second, then sped up, drawing level with Kristin. She ignored damn near everyone, only hissing at someone to move with a violent gesture. Within a few minutes, they'd broken out and headed toward a parked police vehicle with emergency lights blazing.

He hesitated again, eyeing Kristin. She said she was taking him home.

She clambered into the driver's side and slammed the door, already programming a route into the system, waving at him through the window in irritation as he slowly walked to the passenger's side. He slid into the car, tensing.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Believe me Elias, you're not on trial. You're pardoned and I'm cleared to take you." Her fingers tapped the final check button on the dash, then she settled back into the seat, finally turning to face him.

They regarded each other critically as the car roared to life and took off on its own, navigation system pinging off the towers and other airborne vehicles as it rose to enter the traffic stream. Kristin barely paid attention. She only flipped off the emergency lights and glanced in the mirrors.

Mirrors.

Elias jerked to the mirrors, relief swelling in his chest at seeing his face and the scar running through his eyebrow. His haunted, wide dark eyes stared back, ringed in red from exhaustion and chemical irritation from the gel. His hair seemed too long even now; he'd have to get it chopped. But it was him. It was who he remembered.

"Shit," Kristin said behind him, rifling through her jacket pocket. She pulled out a broadcast locker, offering the tech piece to him. "Do you want it for a while?"

He hesitated, face twitching, then he shook his head, eyes drilling into hers. "Can you tell me what the hell happened now?"

Kristin glowered at him in irritation, shoving the broadcast locker into the dashboard compartment. "Give me a second asshole. I'm trying to make you comfortable."

"Kristin," he warned, lowering his gaze to pin her down ferociously, "What. Happened?"

"_Puto gilipollas_," she snarled back, rolling her eyes. Finally, she settled into the chair, one hand on the steering wheel, her dark eyes locking on his, only occasionally glancing out the window to check their destination. "Like I said, you're pardoned. There's no trial." Smugly, she continued, "Because we solved the case."

His heart lurched. "Mary Lou's coding was rigged? What did CTAC say? How-"

She cut him off, rifling through the dashboard again, and pulling out a tablet, tapping on the home screen to light it up. "Shut up. You can read this for details. But-" she held the tablet on her lap, saying, "You got the basic facts. Mary Lou's coding wasn't Neo-C. A Meth by the name of Reileen Kawahara-" A flash of something dark passed behind Kristin's eyes "-hired girls and changed their coding before she whored them out. Head in the Clouds? That was her joint. Mary Lou jumped to get away from there."

Elias quieted, breathing, "So Mary Lou's stack…?"

Kristin nodded. "It came out that Bancroft was involved with Mary Lou's situation, so Reileen blackmailed him into rigging the 653 UN vote. Once that was uncovered, the UN took immediate action to review 653." She smiled viciously, her canines showing. "After Mary Lou's case, they passed 653. Victims finally get a chance to speak." She handed him the tablet with the news cycle clips and text rolling over it. "_Mary Lou_ finally got a chance to speak."

Under her words, Elias could hear the pride and righteous fury blazing. Amusement prickled along his neck as well as vindication. Slowly, he asked, "So, I was fucking right?"

At the bite in his voice, Kristin turned to him, eyebrows knitting. "Did you not just hear me?"

Elias gripped the tablet. "You didn't believe me. You agree with Tanaka." He felt the anger rising in his chest. "You sent me to BCPD."

She hissed in incredulity, "I sent you so they wouldn't kill your sleeve in our home!" Raking a hand through her hair, nearly tearing out the tie in the back, she continued, "I paid your sleeve mortgage for four fucking months! I hid Mary Lou's body like we planned. I stole her stack! I never let this go, for you. I fucking used what you found to finish the case." The car swerved as she jerked the wheel to exit the traffic.

Her words hit the undercurrent and he snapped, "Fuck off then." He turned his attention to the tablet.

"Oh right, so you're always right and I never am?" Kristin continued, head whipping back and forth as she maneuvered the car toward the city block, flipping off other cars honking, and easing it into a stopping glide at the police checkpoint. As the car powered down, she damn near kicked the door open with her heel, exiting the car and muttering curses in Spanish. She began striding away off the platform.

"Fuck," Elias snarled, following her lead. The rain streamed down as he exited and locked the vehicle, stuffing the tablet in his jacket, yelling, "You're gonna leave me here, huh?"

From the stairs off the platform, she yelled back, "You're being an asshole!" The sound of her stomping boots was swallowed by the sound of the streets below, full of vendors shouting and wheedling.

Body stressing, Elias broke into a trot, wheezing as he navigated the metal stair rail, catching sight of Kristin stalking into the crowded way, heading up the street toward their apartment. A small note of relief chimed in the back of his head. He remembered these places and the action of going home. At least that wasn't gone.

Pushing through the crowd, he managed to catch up to Kristin, although she clearly was in a fury. He clenched his jaw and drifted behind her; his hand ached to reach out and hold her hand, but he couldn't show off that kind of expression out here. Instead, he bent his head and ploughed forward like a bull, knocking shoulders with some other lowlifes from the neighborhood. Being just about dinnertime, vendors were especially zealous, screaming at the top of their lungs while waving bowls and plates filled with slop.

Rounding the corner, Elias breathed a sigh of relief seeing the squat basement entrance, advertisements in graffiti spread across the windows. Kristin lifted her wrist to access the bioscan door lock, and it swung open with a loud bang, lights flickering on below. Slinking inside, Elias shook off the rain at the door, sluffing off his jacket as Kristin did the same.

The apartment, to his relief, looked the exact same. The one large room glowed with strategically placed lights over the knockoff designer furniture, the kitchen threadbare without groceries in the fridge or on the cabinet racks, the sheets and blankets on the bed disturbed, and paperwork flowing out from the desk tucked around the corner. There were no boxes, but he made out a small memorial set up on one of the side tables, framed pictures and a standing, gleaming cross.

He gave Kristin a side glance, disdain trickling into his mind.

She hadn't become religious again, had she?

"Tanaka will come by tomorrow."

Elias scowled. "Who said I want to see him?"

Kristin's fist clenched and she stormed down the stairs. "You may not like it, but you gotta see him. You're technically on paid leave and he has to authorize your mental status before returning to work."

Elias drifted down the stairs after her, arguing, "I'm fine. No hallucinations like they said I would."

"Ugh," she groaned, turning to face him, standing in the middle of their home. Looking at his face, her eyes gentled, and she gestured to the apartment. "Do you like it?"

He took the opportunity to glance around again, making a mental note to look at the memorial up close. With a small smile, he realized all the boxes were flattened and stuffed into a bin, clearly ready to go outside. His uniform was pressed and draped over one of the chairs.

Returning his gaze to her, he walked up to her small body. His body was massive compared to Kristen, but he liked that. He liked how she stood taller than him with her fierce attitude. He was the muscle and she was...more. Everything else. He liked how they fit into bed together. Willing her body to melt from his gaze as he bent, he whispered onto her lips, "I like it."

He crushed their lips together, desperate, recognizing her personal smell, the sickly-sweet floral notes of cheap shampoo and laundry detergent; recognizing the acrid taste of coffee in her delicate mouth; recognizing her eagerness as her fingers dove into his hair, grasping. Like always, he lifted her body without breaking the kiss, grunting then frowning at the lack of strength in his muscles, biting her bottom lip as she giggled.

He sank onto the couch, apologizing softly when he banged her ankles and she reorganized her body from seated to a straddle over his lap. She pressed kisses into his cheeks, his eyes, his ears, nipping at his throat, suckling and kissing under his ear.

His body responded and he groaned, digging her shirt out from its tuck in her pants, reaching under it to press his palms against the skin of her lower back, his fingers digging into the waistband of her pants.

"Take it off," she ordered, breathless as she worked at his shirt, and he obliged.

XXX

He woke up for the second time that day.

Blearily, the room came into focus, lights drifting slightly before his eyes readjusted. He stretched his limbs out, groaning in pleasure as his muscles reacted on command. The sheets and blankets draped across the bed, engulfing him in the warmth. He reached a hand out for Kristin, smiling when he felt her seated on the edge of the bed, tugging on clothes again.

She turned, her hair tied up again, but her smile widened seeing him.

She rolled onto the bed, facing him outstretched, and kissed his proffered knuckles. "I'm starving," she murmured, "I'm gonna run out and get some food real quick. Stay inside."

He nodded, eyes lidded in both exhaustion and sleepy contentment, drinking in the sight of her wriggling into black pants, half-heartedly tucking her shirt in and grabbing socks off the floor. She came to the other side of the bed and kissed his forehead, sitting as he circled his arm around her.

"Anything you want in particular?" she murmured, brushing his hair aside.

He chuckled, voice raw as he grunted, "Food."

Kristin smiled, kissing his lips. She stood, back to business, and as she walked away, she called, "I'll get noodz from Ben. He stays open late."

That alerted him. Elias rose halfway from the bed. "What time is it?" he called, blinking at the digital alarm system settings. He swore and lifted his legs from bed as Kristin walked up the stairs again. As she pulled on her jacket and left the apartment, the door banging shut behind her, he lumbered out of bed, complaining about sleeping too late.

The room hadn't changed, but Elias's eyes were drawn again to the memorial. Pursing his lips together uneasily, he edged over to the shelf.

The memorial contained blue, green, red, and yellow candles and several sweets and candies dotted across the entire shelf, the ornate cross in the middle. He frowned. That was her mother's. He gazed at the framed photos, mind slowly processing. Alazne and Kristin in a hug. Xalbador and the boys, smiling at some family event, in this apartment. Francisco's BCPD official portrait. Abboud's portrait.

Elias's fingers grazed over the frames, his breath slowing. There was no fucking way that…

But why wouldn't Kristin tell him?

Shaking his head, he walked across the floor and into the toilet room, turning on the shower water to blazing hot, grunting as it rippled across his skin in painful, erasing tendrils. He scrubbed at his hair again, using Kristin's shampoo to suds the strands, washing it all out and sighing. His body didn't ache anymore. His muscles felt responsive finally, although his brain felt bruised. Slow. Sluggish.

Why was Kristin's entire family on the memorial? He'd have to look up their credentials. He blinked. The tablet. He still hadn't read the news clips or the BCPD report for Mary Lou's case. He needed to confirm whatever Kristin told him.

He stayed in the shower until his skin felt melted. The pain faded as he stepped away toward the sink, toweling himself off and tying it around his waist as he wiped the condensation off the mirror. Taking a moment, he studied the surly man staring back at him.

His face seemed different.

He couldn't shake the feeling. His eyes trailed across his face, noting the slightly longer hair, the scar through his right eyebrow, the nicks and bruises from knife attacks. He lifted his hand to the enormous shoulder scar from the Marioposa district, nodding to himself. The bullethole under his right breast still smooth from scarring. But…

His fingers landed on the long, smooth scar along his left breast.

That hadn't been there.

He gazed down at it, then lifted his left arm, eyes narrowing at the strangely smooth section of skin without arm hair. That was a tattoo removal. Why had a tattoo been there? His eyes widened and he stared back into the mirror, jaw clenching, lips curling into a snarl.

Had someone been in his body?

Kristin.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard the outside door bang and a body shuffling around on the floor above him, then footsteps clanging down the stairs. He gritted his teeth and threw open the door.

Kristin jumped off the last step, eyes flashing, holding up a hand and gripping the bag of noodles tight in her right hand. "_Jesus jodido cristo!_ You scared the shit out of me."

"Was someone in my body?"

At his words, Kristin's face tensed, then faded. "What?" she asked, limbs shifting into an outstretched, placating gesture.

Elias jabbed at the scar and the skin where the tattoo had been removed. "These were not fucking here when I went in," he seethed, "Was someone in my _fucking_ body!"

His words flared Kristin into action. She went to the table and threw the bag, the sound of plastic containers squealing and liquid sloshing. Sighing, she gripped both hands on the back of a chair, and turned to face him solidly. Her eyes pierced his in a strange...sadness?

"Yes."

Elias growled. He took a step forward.

At his advance, Kristin scowled back. "Bancroft ordered a stack to be used in your body to punish me. He was fucking pissed when I couldn't solve his so-called suicide, so he bought a fucking Envoy stack and used it in your body."

"Envoys are dead," Elias came to the side of the table, eyes accusing.

"There was one left. Takeshi Kovacs." Her eyes flickered to the ground and her mouth twisted into a frown. "He...I used him to help finish the case." Fist clenching, she bit out, "Without him, we couldn't have closed any of three fucking cases."

An Envoy, in his body? If that was true, it should have been fucking destroyed. Envoys don't play particularly nice. Elias hesitated, gazing at Kristin's defensive posture. His body...around Kristin…

Bristling, Elias let his rage simmer in his chest until Kristin met his eyes. "Did you fuck him?"

She shook her hair, eyebrows knitting together, eyes in pain. "How could you even say that?" she asked. Her knuckles turned white from clenching the chair so hard.

It hit Elias like a brick.

"You did! That mother fucker used my body to fuck you! Did you fucking not think to-"

"Sit the fuck down and I will explain," Kristin growled, ripping the chair out from under her, pointing to it and moving around to the next one. When Elias didn't move, she hissed, "He found out why I stalked him around. I paid to keep you safe and some Meth decided to punish me for it. When all fucking hell broke loose, Kovacs saved your body." A manic laugh suddenly burst out of her chest. "He _fucking cloned your sleeve_ just in case he didn't come back."

Elias roared, "_He cloned me_?!"

"That body got destroyed when we got evidence from Reileen Kawahara," Kristin continued, stating the facts as her eyes burned with longing and anger. "I fought for your body. Kovacs willingly turned it in once Bancroft's stack got put on ice and I paid double mortgage last month so once your pardon went through you could come back to me in your goddamn original sleeve!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Elias paced back and forth. His eyes lit on the knife rack and for a moment, his hands itched. He snarled, striding away. "Why couldn't you tell me the goddamn truth?!"

On the other side of the table, Kristin suddenly banged her hands on the table.

"Do you even know what I went through, huh?" she breathed. To his horror, tears began slipping out from her eyes as she bared her teeth. "Did you even fucking think to ask what it was like to not trust your body because I knew it someone else was in there?! Did you know what it was like to be so involved in that Meth's case that everyone I fucking love died?!" Her hand jabbed at the altar. "Did you know that Abboud fucking died protecting me from a goddamn Meth assassin in the fucking precinct?!"

_No. No, no, no, no, no._

Elias felt his face crumple and he slumped into the chair on the table, his hands raking through his hair in agony. Not Abboud.

But Kristin hadn't finished. Grabbing one of the standing lights, she strode to his side, eyes alight in a holy hellfire, "Did you know that Kovacs saved _my_ sleeve?"

And in one swift squeeze, she broke the steel lamp stand in her right hand into pieces, the metal spraying onto the floor.

Elias gaped, eyes flickering from her hand to the floor. Metal pieces, electrical wiring, all of it crushed into pebbles on the floor. Silence descended onto the apartment in a heavy, suffocating cloud. Elias felt his finger go subconsciously to the new scar on his chest, tracing it over and over, mind reeling in agony.

Kristin threw the rest of the lamp onto the floor in disgust.

"Fuck you, for thinking you're the only one who suffered," she whispered, voice cracking.

She slumped into the chair, hands digging into the bag and pulling out the noodle containers, tossing one at him, not even laughing when soup leaked out the edges. She opened her own container and ripped open the chopsticks, not waiting for him to move as she began stuffing her face with noodles, ignoring him completely.

He stared, mind reeling, trying to sort the facts together. His stomach grumbled and he slowly moved, opening the package and staring at the mushy noodles in the cream sauce.

Kristin rose and tossed her barely eaten package away, storming toward the shower. She slammed the door after her.

Elias, breath struggling in his chest, sat.

Fuck.

XXX

Taking a deep breath, Elias turned off the beeping tablet, its battery finally giving in after his manic reading.

The darkness swamped his form huddled on the couch, although light and noise trailed in from the street, tantalizing. It would take no time at all to sneak out the door, find Jimmy with his backpack of drugs and smokes, and lose himself until the break of dawn. Inside though, he beat himself down. No, he didn't want to leave Kristin. Not after what he'd said.

She lied on the bed on the other side of the room, breathing steady and deep. When she'd first laid down, she'd tossed and turned, the sheets rustling, and Elias thought he'd heard sobs. That alone had almost made him go to her side and gently kiss and cuddle her, but he couldn't think of touching her when she'd flatly told him to sleep on the couch.

His fingers played with the tablet. All the news reports corroborated what she'd told him. The sheer amount of news coverage was outstanding, especially about the murder of an entire police woman's family and the infiltration and murder of several officers within the police headquarters. He'd buried his head in his hands, quietly weeping for Abboud and the boys. That was before he'd logged into Kristin's police account and pulled all the Bancroft suicide, Kawahara, Head in the Clouds, and Mary Lou Henchy records, incidentals, and files. He traveled down the rabbit hole, seeing the overall picture as different reports made minute progress until finally, he reached the file labeled TAKESHI KOVACS.

The surveillance reports showcasing his own face had been hard to begin to read, but he saw the way Kovacs walked in his body, the way he fought, the sheer amount of carnage left behind, and he realized what Kristin meant by Envoy. This man infiltrated at every level imaginable. The recorded briefings where Kovacs stared almost in amusement at the camera, eyes rolling, head relaxed made Elias realize Kovacs was dangerous. It had never been about his body. It had been about the stack inside it. Then, finally, he'd looked at the last recording, PRIME EVIDENCE: KAWAHARA CONFESSION/KOVACS WIRECAM RECORDING.

His heart had been ripped out as he watched Kristin trapped in the VR simulator, jerking from torture. He watched as the camera stuttered and his own voice pleaded with a beautiful Asian Meth, calling her sister, and bargaining to let the others go. He watched the Meth direct Kovacs to kill obvious hostages, Kristin one of them, and he listened as Kovacs clicked the empty gun against his head. He watched the battle and the fallout, stomach roiling as Kovacs stared at the water of the bay swallow the broken structure of Head in the Clouds and the recording crackled into failure.

Whatever had happened between Kovacs and Kristin, it had obviously been a true partnership of blood and fire that burned out.

She...she had wanted him back. He'd heard her say on several undercover wire taps that the sleeve Kovacs wore was highest priority to remain undamaged. He'd heard Kovacs say unfeelingly that bodies didn't matter and he'd save the sleeve only because it was important to Kristin.

Elias couldn't miss that without Kovacs' help, he'd be held for eternity in the darkness at Psychasec.

He'd be without Kristin.

Sighing, Elias scratched at his scalp, fluffing his hair. His hand reached out to touch his uniform on the couch, remembering how happy he'd been to see his belongings mixed with hers. There were no moving boxes filled with his shit. This was their home. She'd said it, and what she said, she meant. Kristin was everything.

His eyes turned toward her shape in the darkness.

Quiet as possible, he rose, throwing the blankets back onto the couch, hiking up his sleeping pants a little higher as he stretched and padded toward the bedroom. Gazing down at his fierce woman, he slipped under the covers behind her. She jerked awake, hand reaching for her gun on the nightstand, but Elias soothed her, kissing her hand.

"What the fuck?" she asked sleepily, no venom in her tone.

Elias curled around her, a wall, a protection. He'd be there next time. Kissing her neck, then lacing her fingers through his and kissing those, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She didn't answer.

He kissed her cheek in a fever. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I don't want to leave. I want to be here with you."

A breath of amused air passed out of her nose, and she kissed him back. "Shut up. Go to sleep."

Her body relaxed within his grasp and he felt his heart slow to match hers. He breathed her in again. Tomorrow he'd apologize properly. Tomorrow he'd wake up with her.

0

0


End file.
